


Disease

by dont_feed_the_fangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aztec Gods, One Shot, Possessed!Castiel, Possession, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:05:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8323714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_feed_the_fangirl/pseuds/dont_feed_the_fangirl
Summary: Chalchiuhtotolin, the Aztec god of disease, had been running riot in the usual small town. Dean assumed it was a simple case, that was until he found the thing he was hunting inside his best friend.





	

Cas stood in the center of the isle of an old abandoned church, the rotting wood walls of the building patched with holes and damp, but still intact even after years and years of neglect. He sighed quietly and looked around, a small smile sat on his face and he clenched his fist, joints cracking and releasing stiffness. And yet, this wasn't Castiel, his movements were too fluid, too... exaggerated and light. Cas reached down to his belt, pulling a small golden dagger from a new sheath that was attached to it and holding it up to eye level, admiring the flash it was given by the fading light that flooded from the fractured stained-glass window at the front of the church. Pausing for a moment before walking down the aisle to the stone altar set at the front, it was much older than the building itself, the church being built around it and used for worship to the wrong god... He stopped his walk and placed the knife down on the stone, a metallic clang ripping through the silence of the church, though the silence didn't return because it was interrupted again by a car engine being cut off outside.

Dean stepped out of the impala, knife tucked away in his belt, gun readied in his hand. Story was that some ancient disease had spread through town, folk dropping like flies. He walked slowly towards the old church and pushed the door gently, not wanting his presence to be known, though as if in spite the door scraped along the floor, hinges screaming from a lack of care over the years. Dean pulled himself back quickly, leaving shards of rotting wood on his hands. Silence, that was never a good sign. He stepped into the church and slowly made his way up to the altar, his gun pointed at the figure before it, not yet recognising who it was.

Cas' head rose as he looked up from the altar, hearing the heavy footsteps of the hunter behind him. He was alone, that was good. Shrugging off one brother was easier than fighting two. He turned to face the man behind him, the small smile still remaining on his lips.

Dean's face, on the other hand, was laced with confusion, "Cas?" He spoke in an urgent whisper, "What are you doing in here?" His grip on the gun did not loosen, nor did the feeling in his gut lessen.

The angel's features remained neutral as he spoke, his body blocking Dean's view of the altar and the blade atop it. "I thought I might assist you on this case. I am a hunter now, am I not?"

"Of course, Cas. I mean, you're a hunter but I didn't think you'd be interested." Dean nodded and stepped forward.

Cas' smile widened, "An ancient god, unsolved deaths, and a forgotten church," his eyes glinted, "What's there not to love?"

"People are dying, Cas, nothing fun about it." Dean sidestepped around a hole in the splintered floor, watching as Cas moved with him to shield the blade sat on the altar. He frowned but passed it off as one of the angel's quirks. He moved slowly over to the fractured window and knelt to examine the broken symbols at it's base.

Cas saw his opportunity while the man was distracted to continue the plan, uninterrupted. He once again raised the blade in a fluid movement and pressed it lightly against the palm of his hand, the clean edge slicing into the flesh like a hot knife in butter, blood running in a smooth river around his fingers and dripping to his feet. 

The smile on his face twisted as he felt two dull pains in his back, each accompanied by the familiar sound of a gun firing.   
Dean stood firmly, not lowering the gun aimed at his friends back, but this was not the angel he knew, the figure before him was the monster he had been hunting.

"Now, Dean." Cas turned to face him with his fists clenched, blood dripping steadily from one of them. "That wasn't very friendly of you."

"Where's Cas?" Dean practically growled through his teeth. 

Cas sighed, long and drawn out, "Cas isn't home right now. You will just have to do with little old me." He stepped down from the altar and strolled towards Dean, not seeming to notice the gun trained on his head. "You look a little peaky, have you been feeling under the weather? I've heard about a nasty bug going round." He couldn't help but chuckle, proud almost of the body count he had amassed.

Dean held his breath but glared at Cas as he started to circle back to the alter. As he came to Dean's front again he un-clenched his bloody fist and clamped it around Dean's jaw, forcing the hunters mouth to open. "How I wish I could explain my long and convoluted plan but I don't think you'll be around much longer, Dean." Cas spoke dryly and took a long inhale before blowing a short breath into Dean's open mouth. He pulled the hand away, a red hand print marking its place.

Before Dean could respond he was taken back by a spluttering coughing fit, his skin turning deathly pale under the low sun's light.   
"Cas.." He choked out between coughs.

Cas held his hand over the stone altar, the dark blood collecting in his palm. "Cas is gone, Dean. And soon you will be too, along with the rest of the earth's population."

Dean, now in a small heap on the floor, gasped for air. His skin pale and rough, his eyes bloodshot and wide. "Cas, you can fight this.."

"This, my dear boy, is the new age of Chalchiuhtotolin. The earth will be cleansed and my rule will be established." Cas slammed his bloody palm face down on the stone altar.

Dean cried out both pain and frustration, unable to fight as the wooden floor beneath them cracked and shook. The old building falling piece by piece. However the once angel didn't seem to be aware, his hand was planted on the altar, his gravely voice reciting an old prayer. His blood flowing through grooves in the altar in the intricate pattern. 

The hunter forced himself to stand unsteadily on the broken floor. Holding his breath to prevent another round of coughs and chokes, he stumbled forwards to the altar trying to walk on now frail legs. Though he tripped, falling into his friend's side and knocking him from the alter.

Cas roared when his hand was moved from it's place, the shaking ceased and Dean was slowly able to breathe again. Cas took his dagger once again and pinned Dean's still weakened form against the stone around the altar, the dagger held against the mans neck. "You really aren't in the helpful mood today, are you, Dean?"

Dean looked up at the man who was now his enemy, "You can't do this..Cas, you have to fight this." His voice cracked as his body began to fail him. "This isn't you.."

Cas let out a soft but near manic laugh, "I've told you already, hunter, I'm not your beloved angel." He pressed the dagger gently into Dean's neck, watching the blood run against the cool gold. "But I think you will make a nice sacrifice, with your strong blood I could really do some damage."

Dean winced and tried to fight him off, to no avail. "You..won't..win" he gasped out. 

"Oh, I already have." Cas wrapped a hand around Dean's neck and slowly lifted him from the ground and onto the stone table. "Pity you can't have a proper send off, but things aren't as they were." He kept a hand on Dean's neck pressing down enough to keep him still while he raised his other arm holding the dagger.

Dean's eyes rolled back in his head, losing the fight with his friend and his body. He was ready to take his last breath when the god plunged the dagger into his chest, forcing him to gasp for air, his eyes refocusing on the pain radiating from his chest.

Cas looked down and twisted the dagger in Dean's chest, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. He ignored the cries of pain from the man and pulled out the dagger, watching the blood erupt from the wound like soft lava. 

Dean's chest rose and fell in short, uneven bursts. He had never believed the idea that right before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. But in that moment he swore he did, every memory, case, friend he had ever had rushed through his mind. He closed his eyes and whimpered, the blood in his mouth leaving a sour taste.   
He thought of Sam and how he would never see his brother again; Dean had left to take a simple case, he thought it would be done by the end of the week.   
He wouldn't be able to save Cas, not this time.   
But this was it, he put up the best fight he could and he was ready to leave it all behind. And before the thought could even cross his mind, he was gone.

 

***

 

Chalchiuhtotolin looked down at the now lifeless body of Dean Winchester and stepped back, admiring his handiwork. But it was not as satisfying as he had hoped, the altar and Dean were soaked in blood; ready for the ceremony. But Chalchiuhtotolin felt somewhat strange; something had changed within him.  
Castiel was fighting back.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are extremely welcome! Tell me what you think!


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